


When Venom Met Jon

by The_Jade_Samurai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Fluff, Humour, Jon and Venom are bonded, Lots of killing, Symbiotes - Freeform, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-04 19:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jade_Samurai/pseuds/The_Jade_Samurai
Summary: When one of Robert Baratheon's strange prizes escapes its confinement, Jon Snow begins to hear another voice in his head, and a craving to eat and kill. His bonding to the strange creature changes his destiny, but can he control the beast, or will he let the devil in?Honestly just a major fluff around and I really wanted to have a bit of fun. Nothing too serious but if you enjoy Game of Thrones and/or Venom, plus killing, violence and humour, this one's for you!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to another crossover story given by your's truly. I just saw the new Venom movie (yeah I know, it's been out for a while but I've been busy) immediately after watching a couple of my favourite episodes of Game of Thrones and this idea popped into my head. This ain't gonna be a serious story, just a little fun story with lots of killing, because you can't have Venom without killing. 
> 
> Anyway... enjoy!

As Robert Baratheon’s convoy rolled into the main courtyard of Winterfell, Jon felt a dread sense of unease. He certainly did not belong in a place filled with noble lords and ladies ready to greet the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, even if he was the bastard son of Ned Stark. It was just as well that he was standing behind his half-siblings, it would be an insult to everyone if he didn’t.

Behind the large carriage which must have housed Queen Cersei and her two youngest children, which pulled into the courtyard, Jon noticed another carriage behind it. It was dark and made of steel, with no windows or anything to reveal what was inside. Jon was completely oblivious to King Robert’s reunion with Father and his family, having felt a strange sense of curiosity towards the carriage.

“Ah, noticed it too eh bastard?” chuckled the king, drawing Jon’s attention to the fat man standing in front of him. 

“Jon, mind your business,” chided Father gently.

“Oh, don’t mind the lad, I was about to show you my precious trophies anyway,” waved off Robert, and he walked over to the dark carriage and ordered some men to open it. “My latest catches!” he proclaimed.

From out of the carriage, Robert’s servants brought out two large, cylindrical glass cases that seemed heavy, and they were gently laid vertically on the ground. The cases stood up to Robert’s waist, and Jon, and in fact nobody seemed to know what was inside. They seemed to be filled with a gooey substance that pulsed and moved. One was a light grey substance, and the other was jet black, and it was this one that Jon felt himself most intrigued by.

“Where did you get these?” asked Father.

“They fell from the sky just outside of King’s Landing, in the Kingswood,” answered Robert. “There were more of them, but they got away and disappeared into the forest. They’re a gift from the Gods, Ned.”

Father’s face seemed to disagree with that assessment, but he said nothing.

“What are they?” asked lady Stark.

“Um, we’re not sure,” admitted Robert. “But we know that they’re alive.”

“Alive?” repeated Father disbelievingly. Almost in response, the grey fluid lurched at the glass violently, toppling the case over into the mud. Instantly several guards drew their swords and surrounded the case, weapons pointed directly at it. Ned pulled Lady Catelyn protectively behind him, and Jon instinctively did the same to Arya and Sansa, though Arya loudly complained against it. The creature lurched again and cracked the glass, and Queen Cersei shrieked as the Kingsguard surrounded the royal family.

“Grab the emergency case!” yelled Robert. Several servants grabbed an extra case out of the carriage and put it in front of the grey creature’s case then opened it. The creature slithered into the new case, pulsed menacingly for a moment, then stilled.

“Mph, get off me,” grunted Arya.

“Sorry,” said Jon as he released his younger sisters.

“Well, that was exciting,” huffed Robert before chuckling loudly. 

“This one’s been temperamental the whole trip,” explained Ser Barristan of the Kingsguard. “Hopefully it will settle down now that our journey is complete.”

“And on that note, we’d best be heading inside,” said Father. Everybody followed Father and the King into the castle, but Jon lingered outside just a little longer to look at the black creature. Why was he so interested to know what that thing was?

“Best head inside boy, those things are not safe,” suggested Ser Barristan.

Jon obeyed, but not before taking one last look at the black creature. He could have sworn that it was staring right back at him. 

-

Jon’s mind was spent entirely thinking about the black creature for the rest of the night. Even during the great feast he could think of nothing else. He’d never been so obsessed to know what it was, more than anything else he had been interested in, save perhaps the identity of his still-unknown mother. 

but sitting in the back of the hall, surrounded by drunken fools and being separated from his family sickened Jon enough that he left early and went outside to the training yard, where he grabbed a blunted sword and began hacking at a wooden dummy. 

“Too disgusted to watch the drunken king meddling with the maidservants too?” said a voice behind Jon. He turned around to see the dwarf Tyrion Lannister stumbling towards him, a half-empty goblet of Dornish wine in his hand.

“Something like that,” answered Jon.

“You are Ned Stark’s bastard, aren’t you?” said Lord Tyrion. 

“Aye, I am,” confirmed Jon a little aggressively.

“Ah, I see that the word upsets you, forgive me,” said Tyrion. “Perhaps I can show you something that might lift your spirits?”

“The creatures the king brought?” asked Jon.

Lord Tyrion nodded his head, then gestured for the young bastard to follow him. He led Jon to a door which housed many of the royal retinue’s things, including the creatures in the glass cylinders.

“Where are the guards?” asked Jon.

“No doubt getting absolutely pissed,” said Lord Tyrion dryly.

“Those things, what are they?” asked Jon.

“Some kinds of monsters that fell from the sky,” answered Lord Tyrion as he unlocked the door. “Nobody really knows what they are truthfully, except that nothing has been found in the known world quite like them. Shall we have a look?”

Jon felt his face burn slightly, whether it was from the ale or something else, he wasn’t sure. But he nodded his head and followed the dwarf. Lord Tyrion led the way inside, but he stopped so suddenly that Jon almost walked right into his back.

“Oh, Seven Hells,” muttered Tyrion, and Jon’s eyes widened in shock. 

There were two cases perched on a table in the centre of the room. One of them was filled with the grey creature, which was far more docile than earlier in the day, almost as if it were asleep. But the second case, the one that had the black creature, instead was smashed to pieces and completely empty. It must have escaped while everyone was at the feast.

“Wait here, I am going to get my brother,” said Lord Tyrion.

“Why do you have to go?” asked Jon angrily.

“Because you’re the one holding the sword,” said Tyrion as though it was obvious, and without another word, he departed, leaving Jon alone. 

Jon sighed loudly and looked around the empty room, but it was difficult to see properly in the dark light. He could see a few suits of armour, weapons as well as a golden saddle (who needs a golden saddle?), but that was all he could make out. As he searched for the creature, Jon got the strange feeling that something was watching him. He looked back at the case containing the grey creature, but it barely moved inside its confinement. Jon gripped the hilt of his sword a little tighter. He turned around, but there was nothing behind him... that he could see.

Suddenly Jon felt something grab his ankle, so he yelped loudly in fright before falling backwards and fell onto the ground. Something slithered up his leg and Jon tried to grab it, and his hand came into contact with something slimey, but then it was suddenly gone, and Jon felt nothing. 

“What the?” muttered Jon as he got off the ground. The door swung open, and Lord Tyrion returned, followed closely behind by his older brother Ser Jaime Lannister, one of Robert’s Kingsguard. His sword was drawn and he eyed Jon warily.

“Did you find it?” asked Lord Tyrion.

“No my lord,” said Jon, “but something grabbed me by the ankle. I think it was the creature, but it let go of me.”

“I’m going to get more men and search the room, King Robert will not be happy if we lose it forever,” said Ser Jaime. He then looked at Jon. “You’d best be getting away from here bastard, before people start to think you stole it.”

“But I didn’t steal it!” exclaimed Jon.

“We know, but not many people here will believe you,” said Lord Tyrion. “Just go.”

Jon did as he was told and quickly left the scene before anyone saw him.


	2. The Second Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon starts noticing strange things are happening, and he receives an offer from someone unexpected.

The next few days since the black creature escaped were a blur, and strange for Jon. The king had been in a foul mood all week, as Ser Jaime predicted, at having lost one of his prized trophies, and all of Winterfell was having to deal with it. Father, as Robert’s new Hand had been trying his best to maintain order while Lady Catelyn had been run down with exhaustion trying to attend to the needs of the queen and her children. All of the Stark children, even Jon had been trying their best to help the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, and Jon had even gotten a smile of gratitude from Lady Catelyn for his assistance, which was odd considering she was usually cold and distant towards him.

But that was not the weirdest thing to Jon. Since the first night of the king’s arrival he had been having strange dreams which left him waking up feeling even more exhausted than before. The dreams were usually of him running through the Wolfswood at incredibly fast speed, chasing down wildlife before eating them alive. Jon had also developed a voracious appetite, and he was more than willing to eat just about anything, even Sansa’s beloved lemon cakes. And on more than one occasion Jon had caught both Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion watching him intently, which set the young bastard’s nerves on edge.

Jon snuck down to the kitchens late at night, when the castle was asleep and the halls were dark. Careful not to make any noise, he tip-toed down the stairs into the kitchens. It was dark, and Jon could barely see anything, but his gut was telling him exactly where the food was. He sniffed around, and though he wasn’t like his direwolf pup Ghost, he was sure acting like it. What had come over him?

_“Food,”_ said a voice loudly that made Jon spin around the kitchens, searching for the source of the voice. He saw nobody. But surely somebody spoke. Were they hiding? Was it a servant, or Arya playing tricks on him? But Arya couldn’t get her voice to sound deep and guttural.

_“Less thinking, more eating,”_ commanded that same guttural voice.

“Who’s there?” demanded Jon quietly, spinning around again to look through the kitchens for the intruder. But his question was only met with silence, and an unshaken feeling feeling that he was being watched.

But Jon certainly was hungry, so he turned back to the cupboards, opened them and immediately began packing his hands full of food. Once he was done, he stood up, satisfied that he had what he wanted then turned around to leave...

Only to run into a smirking Jaime Lannister.

“Hungry, are you?” he asked knowingly, and the tone of his voice annoyed Jon.

“What is it to you?” retorted Jon.

“Nothing, I was hungry as well,” replied Ser Jaime as he went over and helped himself to an apple. They were rare in the North, but Jon didn’t stop the famed Kingslayer from taking one.

“I have noticed your... voracious appetite bastard, among a great many other things about you,” continued Ser Jaime, as though he and Jon were the best of friends.

“What else have you noticed?” asked Jon quietly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You are sullen, brooding, always acting as though the world is against you, and you need to lighten up” said Ser Jaime, and with every word Jon felt his anger rise. “But there are some other things about you. You have a temper, but it seems you know when to use that to your advantage. Like in the training yards. You are a talented fighter, and I do not say that about many people alive today. Far better than your oaf of a half-brother at least. You fight almost like a man _possessed_.”

Jon frowned. One second, the Kingslayer was insulting him, and the next, he was actually complimenting him. Before Jon could ask about it though, Ser Jaime finished his apple and walked away, leaving a confused Jon behind.

* * *

 

The very next day, Jon walked to the Lord of Winterfell’s solar, having been summoned there by his father. Why, Jon couldn’t say, but he was curious. Father had hardly any time to tend to his children because of his preparation to leave the North in King’s Landing, especially seeing as it was only a few more days until everyone left.

Jon knocked on the door to Father’s solar, and he heard a muffled voice invite him in. To Jon’s surprise, Ser Jaime was there as well with that arrogant grin that seemed permanently etched to his face. Father seemed less than pleased to have the Kingsguard there as well.

“Take a seat,” ordered Father, and Jon sat down in the seat directly across from him, separated by the desk.

“I thought this was to be a private meeting,” said Jon.

“No, this involves Ser Jaime,” said Father, “he has approached me and offered to take you in as his squire.”

If last night’s confusion was bad, then the feeling Jon had was even more so. Ser Jaime wanted him as a squire?

“If I may be bold Ser,” began Jon, “but why me?”

“I told you all the reasons why last night,” answered Ser Jaime. “You have a talent with the sword few possess.”

“Ser Jaime is not the only knight to make such a compliment,” added Father, “even the king said as much.”

“But why me?” repeated Jon.

“Not many people of your... status are offered such a chance,” said Father wisely. “You should take it.”

“But what about me joining the Night’s Watch?” said Jon.

“The Night’s Watch? scoffed Ser Jaime. “That place is little more than a bunch of thieves and rapists condemned to freeze their balls off and guard the Seven Kingdoms from wild men and fairytales.”

“Uncle Benjen is-” began Jon hotly.

“The exception to that statement,” cut in Father. “Unfortunate as that may seem.”

Jon sank deeply into his chair. In only a few minutes all of the plans he had made regarding the rest of his life had been torn apart and flipped upside down. He had always wanted to serve in the Night’s Watch, believing it to be a fine institution, but Father and Ser Jaime had told him the truth. But the prospect of training under Ser Jaime, one of the greatest swordsmen in the world and perhaps even becoming a knight was not one Jon could refuse right away.

“May I have time to think about it?” asked Jon.

“You have until this evening” said Father. Jon nodded his head before standing up, then he looked at Ser Jaime. He was taller than Jon, with a clean-shaven face, long, golden hair and green eyes, and in his white armour and cloak, he was straight out of one of the stories Sansa loved so much.

_“Pussy,”_ muttered the voice that Jon kept hearing, startling him slightly. _“But he is just like us.”_

_Who is us?_ thought Jon. He left his father’s solar, feeling more confused about his life choices more than ever. As he walked alone to the Godswood, he thought of the advantages and disadvantages of becoming Ser Jaime’s squire. Firstly, he would be in the constant presence of some of the finest knights in the Seven Kingdoms, and even be trained by them. Ser Barristan Selmy was a legend and regarded as the greatest swordsman in the world, second only to the late Arthur Dayne. Ser Jaime, though an oathbreaker was undoubtedly one of the best ever as well. He would also be at King’s Landing with most of his family, Father, Arya, Bran and Sansa. Jon had also wanted to go to the capital and see the Red Keep.

As Jon thought about how many people lived in King’s Landing, he suddenly felt hungry.

_“Mmm, plenty of snacks,”_ said that same voice.

“Who said that?” demanded Jon loudly, his voice echoing through the Godswood.

_“Me,”_ replied the voice.

“Who are you?” said Jon, his eyes darting around to search for whoever was with him.

_“I will answer that question at another time, but first-”_

A loud, piercing scream of death rang through the air, silencing the voice. It was a woman’s scream, and Jon felt chills run down his spine. He quickly ran out of the Godswood, searching for the source of the horrific noise. He found it in the courtyard, where Lady Catelyn was crouched at the base of the broken tower clutching a broken and unconscious Bran. Other people were running into the courtyard, including Robb, Father and Arya.

_No, not Bran_ , thought Jon, fear and sickness welling up inside him. Did he finally fall? That was impossible, Bran never fell. Jon looked up the broken tower just in time to see a flash of red and black, and his anger flared.

“There’s somebody up there!” he shouted before sprinting past Lady Catelyn and Bran and into the tower. He raced up the winding stairs with a speed he didn’t know he possessed, and within seconds he was at the top. Sword drawn, Jon looked around for a moment before deciding the area was clear. He quickly looked out the window, which must have been the one Bran fell from and surveyed outside, and he saw something odd.

At first Jon thought it was a man, but then realised it was far too large to be a normal man. The top half of its body was scarlet-red, and from the waist down pitch black. It was also well-muscled, not freakishly large like the Hound or the Mountain, but more of the lean builder of a fighter. It was running along the outer wall of Winterfell, but it stopped and turned it head to reveal large, white spots for eyes that had no pupils, yet Jon knew it was looking at him. The creature gave a two-fingered salute before leaping over the wall in a single bound, vanishing.

_“So he’s found a host as well,”_ said that voice.

“What?” said Jon.

“Jon!” called out a voice, and Jon turned around just as Father and Robb ran up the stairs with their swords drawn.

“Did you find anyone?” growled Robb angrily.

“I saw something,” answered Jon quietly, feeling a little shaken.

“What? What did you see?” asked Father.

“I-I don’t know. It wasn’t human,” answered Jon.

“What do you mean, it wasn’t human?!” demanded Robb.

“It escaped through the window and jumped over the wall out of Winterfell,” said Jon.

Father came over and joined Jon and looked out the window. “Nothing,” he said. “Whatever you saw, it is gone now.”

“Damn it!” roared Robb. “When I find that thing, I’ll kill it!”

“Calm yourself Robb,” chastised Father, though Jon could see that he was just as furious. “I will assemble a party and send them out to find the creature. In the meantime, your mother needs you Robb, go and take care of her.”

Robb nodded his head and ran downstairs, while Father turned to look at Jon. “Whatever you saw, describe it to me in exact detail.”

So Jon told him everything he saw, and the more he described it, the more Father’s face grew angrier. Jon didn’t think he’d ever seen him so angry in his life.

“I have to go,” he said.

“Where?” asked Jon.

“To talk to some people,” was the only answer Father gave before he too went downstairs, leaving Jon by himself.


	3. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon heads South with his family and the king, but trouble stirs at the Ruby Ford.

All of Jon’s belongings were packed away carefully, and he quickly looked around the room one last time to make sure everything was secure, then left. He had accepted Ser Jaime’s offer to be his squire, and he quickly raced outside and put his things onto his horse’s saddle. It wasn’t much, but Jon had never been much of a hoarder.

Father had a grim look on his face as he hopped onto his own stallion next to King Robert, which Jon could understand completely. Half of the Starks were leaving Winterfell, seemingly abandoning Bran as he drifted between life and death, but they had no choice. The king’s orders could not be refused.

Jon said his goodbyes to his family and the few friends he had before jumping on his horse and riding next to Ser Jaime, who was fully clad in his white Kingsguard armour, minus the helmet. One the king’s command, the great convoy left Winterfell, and Jon looked back at the great castle one last time, the only place he had ever called home. Hopefully Jon would be able to return again sometime in the future, if only to visit.

Over the next coming days, Jon quickly discovered that being squire to a knight involved a whole lot more than training with a sword. No, it involved a whole lot more cleaning and polishing Ser Jaime’s armour as well as making sure his horse was taken care of, running small, tedious errands, cleaning chamberpots and again cleaning armour, all of which made Jon fail to see the connection of becoming a knight himself. It certainly did not help that Ser Jaime was such an arrogant ponce who acted like he was far better than everyone else, which was starting to stress Jon out. When Jon had confronted him about it, Ser Jaime chuckled.

“I am merely teaching you the same way Ser Arthur had taught me,” he replied.

“And what exactly is that?” demanded Jon.

“The importance of following,” answered Ser Jaime. “The greatest leader is the greatest follower, the greatest servant. If you want to lead, learn how to follow first.”

“What does that have to do with cleaning your armour?” asked Jon.

“It is teaching you to follow orders exactly, no matter how ridiculous they might seem,” said Ser Jaime. “And one day, you’re probably going to be taking orders from the dimwit they call our king.” He then stood up and stretched. “My nephew is going to take your pretty sister out on a walk along the Ruby Ford, I suggest you follow them.”

Jon nodded his head and walked out to find Sansa and Prince Joffrey. As he walked, he pondered over what Ser Jaime had said. After what he had said, the way Jon was being trained made sense, in an odd sort of way, mostly because it came from Ser Jaime. But if that was how he was trained by the Sword of the Morning, then Jon was willing to give it a chance.

He found Sansa and Prince Joffrey along the bank of the nearby river talking. Seven Hells, Joffrey was the cockiest fool Jon had ever met, and that was saying a lot, but Sansa was gushing all over him like he was some kind of god. He also spotted Arya and the local butcher’s boy play-fighting, so he decided to join them while at the same time keeping an eye out on his other sister.

“Hi Jon!” said Arya happily. The butcher’s boy bowed his head bashfully and shuffled on his feet.

“What are you doing?” asked Jon.

“Training, mayhaps you can show us a thing or two?” said Arya.

“Of course,” said Jon.

Secretly, Arya was Jon’s favourite Stark, partly because they were the only two who resembled their father and because they were both outcasts. Jon was a bastard, Arya was a she-wolf who wanted to be a great warrior like the old stories of Queen Nymeria. Nearby, Jon could see Arya’s direwolf Nymeria resting under a bush to escape the hot Southern sun of the Riverlands.

As he taught Arya and the butcher’s boy some basic fighting techniques, he spotted Sansa and Prince Joffrey approaching out of the corner of his eye.

“Ah, the bastard’s teaching you how to fight?” scoffed Joffrey.

“Jon’s not a bastard, he’s my brother!” snapped Arya.

“It’s alright Arya,” said Jon before turning to face the prince. “I was just showing them a few basic stances, Your Grace.”

“What could you show them?” laughed Joffrey, “you are just a bastard who knows nothing!”

_“The boy is a pretentious twat, let’s teach him a lesson!”_ hissed the voice.

Jon looked at the prince, his grin malicious and his eyes glimmering with cruelty.

“There is something not right with this boy,” whispered Jon to the voice.

_“His cruelty wafts off him in waves, and your sister is an idiot for thinking otherwise,”_ agreed the voice. _“Perhaps we should take him down a few pegs?”_

Jon glanced over at Sansa, who had the decency to look a little ashamed at Joffrey’s insults, but she was far too demure to do anything.

“I’m being taught by your uncle,” said Jon.

“What?” said Joffrey, his face contorted in mild confusion at Jon’s statement.

“Your uncle is described as one of the best fighters in the Seven Kingdoms,” said Jon. “If I am his squire and you have said that I know nothing, are you implying the same of Ser Jaime?”

Arya snorted with laughter while Sansa looked horrified.

_“Good one,”_ laughed the voice.

Joffrey on the other hand, looked downright murderous and he came over and slapped Jon across the face.

“You know why your father never speaks of your mother? Because she was a dirty whore who spread her legs for him,” hissed Joffrey.

_“Kill him! Tear his limb from his body and eat his face!”_ snarled the voice.

“You arsehole!” screamed Arya, and she came over and slapped Joffrey in the hand with her stick.

“Ow! Traitorous bitch!” shrieked Joffrey, and he drew his sword from his scabbard and began to attack Arya.

“No!” roared Jon, and he drew his sword to protect his sister. However, he did not need to, because Nymeria ran over and jumped at Joffrey before biting him on the hand. Joffrey screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding hand tenderly.

“Seven Hells!” yelled Jon. Arya stood up from where she had fallen before running away with the butcher’s boy and Nymeria, while Sansa sobbed uncontrollably where she stood. Jon went over and grabbed his redheaded sister gently after sheathing his sword and made her look at him.

“Go fetch a maester,” he told her. Sansa nodded before picking up her skirts and running back to camp while Jon ripped a piece of cloth from his undershirt, then lightly wrapped it around the whimpering prince’s injured hand. This was not going to end well.

* * *

 

And end badly it did. Jon returned to his tent fuming at the injustice of the evening. Because of Joffrey exaggerating his minor injury and Sansa’s indecisiveness about the events, unsure whether to support her family or support the prince to maintain his favour, one direwolf was murdered in cold blood. Because both Nymeria and Ghost had both fled into the forest, Sansa’s direwolf Lady was required to pay the price of drawing a prince’s blood, and now she was dead. Jon was also going to be put on trial for attempting to defend Arya against Joffrey’s attack, and with a vicious boy like Joffrey as well as a psychotic queen up against him, Jon’s odds were not in his favour.

He went to bed early, thinking that there was no way he was going to have either his sword hand cut off or take the black because there was no way he was going to be found innocent come morning. Sleep was hard to come by, but when it did, Jon’s dream was different.

Jon dreamt that he was in the forest, just outside of the camp, waiting for patiently near Joffrey’s tent. He was standing taller, much taller than his usual height. He could hear and smell everything, as though all of his senses had tripled. He longed to eat something, something made of juicy flesh and crunchy bone. Perhaps after he performed his task he would go hunting.

Joffrey appeared out of his tent and began to walk off into the woods alone.

_“You should have brought your dear mother with you,”_ said Jon in a deep, guttural voice that wasn’t his own, and despite his size, he silently followed behind Joffrey.

The prince stopped at the base of a large oak tree and started to piss on it, whistling a tune quietly. Once he was done, he pulled his pants up and looked up at the tree, then chuckled darkly when he saw an owl up in the branches. He picked up a rock and went to throw it, but Jon extended a black, muscular arm and grabbed Joffrey by the shoulder then spun him around.

“What the?” exclaimed Joffrey angrily, then his eyes widened in horror, and he opened his mouth to scream, but Jon wrapped his thick hand around his throat and squeezed, cutting the boy’s cry off. Jon then lifted himself up into the tree, taking Joffrey with him.

_“Don’t you dare make a noise,”_ growled Jon once they were high enough. _“You have already ruined enough for one day.”_ He then sniffed the air, and delighted in the stench of fear pouring off Joffrey.

_“You have no idea how hungry we are,”_ continued Jon. _“All of your organs are functioning at a higher rate than normal. I can smell the adrenaline pumping through you, it makes our mouth water.”_

He opened his mouth, and a long, pink tongue slithered outwards and licked Joffrey’s quivering cheek, leaving a trail of thick saliva. Joffrey whimpered pitifully and he tried to pry Jon’s hand away, but Jon was far too strong.

_“As tasty as you smell though, we are not here to eat you,”_ said Jon. _“Not today, at least. No, you owe us something.”_

“W-what?” stammered Joffrey breathily.

_“Pardon Jon Snow. Make amends with the Starks. Be kind to the Stark girls especially,”_ said Jon. _“If you don’t, we’ll come for you. No army can keep us from eating your pretty face right off your head. You will be so disgusting that no woman would take you for their husband, regardless of your power.”_

“What are you?” whimpered Joffrey.

_“Do we have a deal?”_ asked Jon, ignoring Joffrey’s question.

“I’m not making deals with a monster! I’ll have the Hound hunt you down!” squealed Joffrey.

_“No deal? Shame, but at least we get to see what royalty tastes like!”_ said Jon, and he opened his mouth widely to devour the prince.

“Wait wait wait! I accept!” shrieked Joffrey. Jon paused, then clamped his mouth closed.

_“Hm, we guess dinner will have to wait,”_ he said disappointedly.

“What are you?!” repeated Joffrey. Jon revelled in the wide-eyed fear emanating from his bright green eyes, the tears pouring down his red face and the pitiful whines coming out of his wormy mouth.

_“We, are Venom,”_ answered Jon. He jumped down down the tree, easily landing on his two feet then let go of Joffrey, and after that he took of into the forest on all fours.


End file.
